


Seven Hells

by kitkatkaylie



Series: Tumblr fics [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Grey Wind is the goodest boy, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Theon and Robb have not seen each other since they were parted in the Riverlands.Except they have. Every day a figment of the other comes to torment them.Until one day they see each other again, and Theon vows to save them both.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: Tumblr fics [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774048
Kudos: 21





	Seven Hells

The whimpering had started up again. A terrified sound that no longer sparked joy in Robb’s heart, the way it had when he first heard it.

Now it just made him sad.

Soon enough he would hear the pained moans, and see the creature move closer to him. He wondered if it would have any new wounds, any more missing fingers or patches of skin flayed from its flesh.

It was his fault that the creature was this way. He had been the one to send the Bastard of Bolton after him.

A cold light shone upon the creature. A cold light lit up the weeping wounds, the terrible scars, the raw flesh.

A pair of familiar green eyes met his own and Robb sank into the torment shown in his best friend’s eyes.

He deserved it.

* * *

Theon curled around himself in the corner. He did not know who would be visiting him that day, there was no pattern to the visits, no way to prepare himself for them.

He just knew that the visit would hurt.

Before Theon had thought he knew hurt, thought he could endure almost anything after what Ramsay had put him through.

Theon had been wrong.

It was the King today.

The man who looked down at him from beneath his iron crown, the man who Theon had promised to support  now and always and had betrayed.

The King was not as bad as the other one though, Theon could deal with him. The child who spoke all Theon’s fears was much worse, much more painful to behold.

“Traitor.” The King spat, “Turncloak, Brother slayer. I’m glad I set the Boltons on you, you deserved everything they gave you.”

Theon whimpered, for all the King was easier to bear, his words still hurt to hear. 

And then, something changed, something went wrong, the tall, stately King was replaced with another Robb. A Robb that was curled up on the floor just like Theon was.

Theon sat up, his eyes unable to believe the sight.

“Robb?” He croaked, his voice hoarse from screaming and pleading and crying.

The Robb in the corner looked up, his eyes red from crying and his face haunt.

“Th-Theon?” He rasped, and his voice sounded so much worse than Theon’s.

But then, if this really was Robb, he had been here so much longer.

They looked at each other as though expecting it to be another trick, and the strangest sensation shot down Theon’s spine, a sense of reality.

If he wasn’t wrong then Robb really was there with him. Robb really was suffering as Theon was.

It wasn’t fair.

Robb was good and kind and honourable. He didn’t deserve to be in this place, he didn’t deserve to be tormented like Theon was.

They reached out to one another, and just as their fingers touched, the first warmth Theon had felt since arriving, so was Robb whisked away with the sound of a howling wolf and the scent of decay.

Theon was left looking at the spot where Robb had been, his hand still reaching into thin air.

But where he expected despair to overtake him, a sense of purpose filled him.

He would find Robb again, and they would find their way out, they would not be separated again. 

* * *

Perhaps there was someone who remembered that leap from the Walls of Winterfell, someone who remembered that final stand in the Godswood. Perhaps the Drowned God intervened for his lost child. Perhaps the Old Gods intervened forthe man who had died saving their champion.

Perhaps it was all of them or none of them.

Theon only knew that there was the familiar sound of claws upon stone; the familiar patter of large paws, and the sound whoosh of fur brushing against walls.

Hope filled his heart for the first time since he had arrived, since the first visit from the Child. Hope that his promise to save Robb and himself would not be in vein.

A furry snout entered the room, the same way that the King and the Child did, entering even though there was no door. Theon felt like crying at the sight of the grey fur upon its muzzle, grey fur he had not seen since before leaving to see his father. 

The rest of the wolf followed it, filling up the dark space with warmth and fur and Theon did cry.

The tears slid down his face as he buried his hands into that grey fur, as the warmth flooded through him.

A rough tongue lathered his face, mopping up his tears and bringing happy memories to the forefront of his mind.

Greywind whined softly and lay down, he nudged at Theon’s legs with his nose and pointedly looked at his back.

Theon got the message, he shifted and pulled himself up onto Greywind’s back, the muscles beneath his thighs and the soft fur clutched in his hands.

It was hard to believe it was real. Hard to believe that Greywind was really there.

He sent a prayer of thanks up to every god he could think of as they left the place where Theon had been tormented for so long.

Theon could not see anything as they left, only blackness surrounding them.

He did not care though, he trusted Greywind to take him to Robb.

* * *

Robb curled up in the corner, his head pillowed in his arms and his hands over his ears.

He had seen Theon earlier, his face replacing that of the Creature for a little while.

There was little difference between them.

He did not know what he had done to deserve such torment, to deserve such hatred from the Gods. He had broken no oaths save those made to an oathbreaker, had slain no kin, and had always tried to be honourable and good. But it obviously had not been enough.

Despair overtook him, filled his every pore, not even the Creature could gain a reaction from him.

Maybe the gods realised that, realised that their torment had stopped working, for they tried a new technique.

Claws upon stone, a familiar sound that had him cringing even further into a ball.

It was a reminder of yet another mistake, of the wolf he had locked up and who had died because of Robb’s mistakes.

He wondered absently what they were going to do with the apparition of Greywind, how they would use his wolf to torment him.

He did not look up as the sound got closer. He did not look up as hot breath was huffed over his face.

Why would he look up? Why would he let his torment be made any easier?

* * *

Theon cried again upon seeing Robb. Upon seeing the way he curled into himself, the way he would not look up, the way he was trembling.

It was wrong to see him diminished so, wrong to see him looking so small. 

Robb should never have looked like this, never should have been made to feel so small. He was made for large halls, for open fields, for the duty of a crown upon his brow, not for small shadows like Theon was.

He slipped from Greywind’s back, until his feet touched the cold floor. It still surprised him that the Seven Hells were cold, the Septons had always preached about the heat and fires and burning for all eternity.

Theon padded over to Robb, his every movement slow so as not to startle him. Slowly, gently, he reached out to Robb, his hand trembling at the thought of finally touching him after so very long.

His hand made contact with Robb’s arm, the feeling of his warmth beneath the ragged linen of his shirt made Theon shudder. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of another.

Robb stiffened beneath his touch, and his breathing grew far shallower.

“Robb?” Theon coaxed softly, “Can you look up at me please? I promise I’m real.”

Slowly, creakily, as though the movement pained him, Robb looked up.

Theon wanted to cry again at the dead look in those blue eyes he loved so much. The despair and pain that they contained.

He did not cry, but he could not stop himself from drawing Robb into a hug.

Robb was stiff in his arms, until suddenly, all at once, he melted into Theon’s hold.

He shook with sobs, and Theon found himself clutching Robb even tighter.

“It’s alright,” He crooned, “I’m here, Greywind is here. We are going to get out of here, I promise.”

It took a moment, but then Robb drew into himself and became the man that Theon knew him to be.

He nodded and looked Theon straight in the eye, a spark of hope in his eyes, “Let’s go then, I care not if this is a trick any more. It’s not as though i can lose anything else.”

It was not the reaction that Theon had hoped for, but it was one he would gladly accept of it meant them both getting out.

* * *

Robb curled into Theon’s back, the warmth of that too thin body. If he concentrated he could feel the rise and fall of his chest, for all that they did not need to breathe, they did so for it felt normal. 

It was comforting, to know that Theon had come for him, to know that Greywind had come for him.

He had never believed that someone would fight to find him, not when he had failed to fight for his sisters.

As though they could hear his thoughts, Theon patted his hands in comfort and Greywind rumbled the same sound he had always done when Robb was sad.

Neither Robb nor Theon knew where they were going, they only knew that Greywind knew the way. 

Perhaps they would be taken to the rest of their family. Perhaps they would go to the place forbidden to oathbreakers and kinslayers.

It was only them in the darkness, the two of them and Greywind.

And then a sliver of light up ahead, the scent of salt and the Weirwood, and hope filled their chests.

They entered the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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